kagerou
by Dumpfmoebel
Summary: Today could be like any old summer day there is, but it isn't. PWP. AU in which Aoba is a transgender man.


If one visits Midorijima during the winter months, they might assume it's a fairly mild place – Aoba has seen snow fall once in his life, yet it melted immediately as soon as it hit the pavement, covering the streets in grey sludge and making walking without slipping very difficult. That was years ago, too. Nowadays, the coldness stings on one's skin at worst and the island's residents can indeed enjoy a rather balanced winter.

However, assuming the nature of Midorijima's summer from that experience alone is foolish and can end in a lot of long-sleeved tears.

Even with a loose tanktop on, hair tied up into a regularly collapsing chignon and a moist can of _5-on_ pulled fresh out of the vending machine in his right hand, contents gradually vanishing into his dry throat, the sun's merciless burn hinders his travel to the north district. Old piles of junk give off a hideous odor and he can only be grateful that none of them have any organic content.

On any other occasion, not even Shuuji Ishii himself could lure him out of the air-conditioned sanctuary of his room in this weather, with even the short trip to Heibon being almost unbearable (at least that place is equipped with fans as well). He can still meet up with friends in the cooler evening, after all, and buy groceries during an early sunset. Today is special, though. Or, well, not special in and by itself...

Worming himself through a hole in the high fence, Aoba finally finds himself in front of the little patchwork shack that is his destination today. He chugs down the rest of his soda and, after a little deliberation, sets it down next to the door – he can pick it up before he's going on his way back.

Today would be like any old summer day there is, if Clear hadn't proposed a sleepover at his old house. Since he moved into Aoba's place a while ago, spending nights together isn't really a novelty for the two of them, but at this place, it's different as it's loaded with memories and also a strange kind of minimalistic comfort. Clear left early this morning, claiming he had to prepare some things, probably snacks and bedding, and so Aoba has made his way to the hut by himself in the blazing afternoon.

His knuckles almost char a little when they hit the iron that has been coated in sunlight for hours now; hissing, he pulls his hand back and knocks with the tip of his shoe instead, sucking on the reddened skin.

Dust and Clear's excited expression punch him in the face simultaneously, violent coughs shaking his body as a result. Something resembling hot steam wafts outside.

"Aoba-san! You're here! Please come in!"

Stepping through the metal frame while his boyfriend bounces off confirms his fears: The air inside the house is muggy and heavy, even worse than outside. Within the seconds of taking off his sandals and walking up the stairs, his clothes are drenched in sweat.

"I tried to make lemonade myself, but it didn't go very well, so I bought soda instead! I hope you like this brand!" Clear juggles drinking cups and a nostalgic little glass flagon until they are safely placed on a wooden table adorned with pillows left and right. It looks cute and homely, the liquid glistening with an inviting coolness, and Aoba fights the urge to unceremoniously empty it over his head.

Has Clear not noticed that this shack is an oversized oven at this point?

"Uhm, Clear... Do you maybe have a fan or an air con of some sorts...?"

"Fan? Oh, yes, I do! Please wait a second!" Clear rummages through a small drawer, unearthing a plate of paper held up by a wooden stick. "Here you go! I'm sorry for not offering it sooner!"

Aoba blinks as a bead of moisture trickles down his temple, accepting the item awkwardly. "I... meant an electric fan... Aren't you hot at all?"

"Me?", the man repeats, laying a fingertip on his nose.

"Yeah. You're not sweating, even though it's warmer in here than outside..."

"Oh! No, I am fine. I have a coolant system on the inside, so I don't sweat much. But..." His face is catapulted from modesty into panic. "Waah! I'm so sorry, Aoba-san! I didn't notice you were uncomfortable at all! Please forgive me...! I don't have any cooling devices..."

"Ah, no, no, no, don't be sorry! I'm fine with this paper fan, I guess... And the soda will help, too." There's a slight bitterness at Clear's display of... _otherness_ that Aoba wants to wash down. "I'll pour us a glass, alright?"

"No, let me do it. You shouldn't overwork yourself in this heat!"

"Eh... Okay." It's not like crouching down, picking up a jug and tilting it is some kind of hardcore exertion, but thanks to the oceans of refreshing drinks he has downed earlier, Aoba's bladder is beginning to demand attention, and this is a good opportunity to excuse himself. "I'll just go to the bathroom real quick..."

"Alright!", Clear chirps, filling the cups with lemonade, one gloved hand put to the belly of the can, a gesture full with a weird kind of elegance.

At least the tiles in the downstairs bathroom are nice and cool against the soles of his naked feet. Forcing himself to avert his gaze from the tempting-looking shower, Aoba shoves his jeans and boxers to his knees and plops down on the toilet, grimacing at the even colder seat. But on the contrary, letting his skin get some air feels good, too...

In fact, especially his chest and back are itchy, almost suffocated. He pulls up his shirt, scratching over the tight fabric of his binder, a (horribly expensive, and he punched him in the shoulder pretty hard for that) present from Mizuki for his last birthday, frowning at the seeming stickiness beneath it. He hasn't really worn something like that on hot summer days before - he normally just lazes around barely clothed at home anyway when temperatures get this extreme. But it looks like putting it on today wasn't a very good idea.

After washing his hands, Aoba strips himself off everything covering his torso. Red marks, almost rashes... Determinedly, he splashes icy water on them, shuddering at the impact yet relieved by how soothing it feels on his strained skin.

There's no way he can put this thing on again...

It's not like he doesn't have any qualms with that decision, though. Sure, they've had sex and all that, yet Aoba has never taken the binder off in front of Clear, not because of any substantial shame, just because baring himself fully is kind of embarrassing... And with the top stretched over his breasts like this, nipples protruding thanks to the friction of the fabric, it's somehow even more lewd.

But wearing the binder in this temperature... that seems like nothing but torture. Swallowing down his flusteredness, Aoba puts it up on a towel holder and rips the door open, marches up the stairs with aggressively forced confidence. Clear has waited patiently, the soda level in every container still the same as before, and he beams like a puppy at his lover's reentering of the room.

"Welcome back, Aoba-san!"

"Geez, I only went to the bathroom, not to another country. Come on, let's drink."

Clear's smile is gentle. "You look like you feel more comfortable now."

"Yeah, I... washed myself a little." The beverage is sweet, yet Aoba is distracted by the other's gaze on him. "...What are you looking at?"

"Aoba-san's chest..."

Well, at least he's straightforward.

"That's...! That's impolite, you know!"

"Is it? Grandpa always told me looking at a lady's chest is impolite, but Aoba-san is not a lady, so I thought..."

Does that mean he has stared at other people's breasts like this before?!

"No matter who it is, staring is kind of rude... Regardless of what part you're looking at."

"I'm sorry, then... It's just... I've never seen Aoba-san's chest like this before..." Clear sounds almost hypnotized. "It looks so soft..."

His childish fascination is hard to resist. Even though Aoba's cheeks are boiling – more than anything else, that is, with the soda not really helping his perspiration at all – he scoots closer, offering his boyfriend a better view.

"Umm... You know... If you want to, I wouldn't exactly mind it if you... touched them... But only a little! It's really hot after all..."

Aoba can't even believe himself. Just a few minutes earlier he was nervous and now he is pulling his top up to his ribcage hesitantly, knowing fully well that if Clear doesn't refuse his offer, "only a little" is not going to cover it.

"If that is alright with you..." Clear seems suddenly shy, and with that as an incentive, Aoba nods, takes a deep breath and tugs it up further, then over his head completely. The feeling of exposure quickly creeps through his veins and his hands clench together in his lap, waiting for Clear to react already. He's simply looking, though, eyes sparkling at the sight, and although there's still a great deal of innocence in that gaze, his flushed face conveys all too clearly that he's aware of what this situation implies.

"Ahh... they are really pretty, Aoba-san."

"Uhm... thanks..."

And finally, his arms stretch out and the material of his gloves comes into contact with the sensitive skin. Aoba can't help but tense up at the sensation... no one besides him has really touched him there before, even if Clear isn't the first person for him to have gotten intimate with, and it's unusual and strange.

Not inherently bad, however. Not unpleasant. Clear is gentle, stroking the two mounds, each in one hand, with his thumbs while pressing into them a little. The sensuality of the motion is then disrupted when he pushes them up instead, as if weighing them, eyes widening.

"Wah... they really are as soft as they look!"

Without warning, he changes to squeezing, and a whimper rushes past Aoba's lips.

"Careful there...!"

"I'm sorry!"

The next tightening of his grip is lighter, producing an entire different feeling in Aoba's body. His palms are brushing his nipples with every movement of his fingers and he is biting his lip with concentration, desire mixing with the admiration on his face.

"They feel really nice, Aoba-san..."

The way he mutters it, voice dripping with emotion, Aoba can't help but lean in to kiss him, hands on the floor next to his legs, and Clear hums, his mouth vibrating while his fingers continue exploring the skin beneath them. As they break apart, he pulls off his gloves; the return of his palms to Aoba's breasts is intense and he hurriedly presses their lips together again to stifle his moan. Even the rougher kneading feels good now, as if the syrupy pleasure pooling in his chest was slowly dripping down inside his body and collecting between his thighs, following the path of the sweat on his back. For Clear, it's no different – he's already sporting a small tent at the front of his trousers, Aoba finds out when he starts to stroke the other's legs, then travels upwards. He drags his touch over it; a sigh ghosts over both of their tongues.

Not willing to let go, the fumbling with his zipper proves to be a little difficult, but Aoba manages to open the front of Clear's pants eventually, freeing his cock and delighted at his partner's squirming body. Sometimes it admittedly makes him a little bashful to reach new grounds, but that's always nothing compared to how much he enjoys making him feel good, even teasing him a little. Aoba might not be very experienced himself, but Clear is still very new to the whole sex ordeal and not reluctant to try out different things.

He tilts his head questioningly when Aoba, after hardening him more with a few quick rubs, slides downwards, taking his hands off his chest and placing them on his head instead so several blue strands flee the constraint of his plastic hair clip.

"Aoba-san... you don't have to... Nn!" His eyes fall closed as Aoba's tongue darts out to flick over the tip of his arousal, nails scratching his scalp softly. Feeling bold thanks to that reaction, the blue-haired man dips lower, licking up and down the engorged shaft and making sure it's becoming properly slick. Clear whines, evidently hungry for more stimulation.

"Clear", Aoba firmly says.

"Yes, Aoba-san?"

"Can you lie down?"

"Of course." Clear rapidly drops backwards, head hitting the floor with a loud thump, and Aoba cringes. He doesn't appear to be in pain at all, but still...

"Do you... want to put your head on a pillow, maybe?"

"No, I'm fine!" His voice is brimming with gleeful, turned-on anticipation. It's cute, washing away Aoba's last doubts, so he crawls over him, arms left and right to his hips, and pushes his own breasts together, enveloping Clear's cock, its purplish head peeking out of the valley between them.

"Mnn...!" Clear thrusts up a little, then stops himself and raises his head slightly to take in what's happening. His teeth glint between his lips that are slightly parted with surprise. Embarrassment beginning to make the blood in his face rise up to his hairline, Aoba moves, elbows rising up from the floor.

Clear's member is slippery with saliva and precome, easily sliding back and forth between the supple mounds on Aoba's chest that are large enough to wrap him up completely. It's a peculiar sensation, fluids being smeared there, yet Aoba is now all too aware of the heated-up room, his pants clinging to his legs with moisture, and not solely because keeping a rhythm up is slightly exhausting. Originating in a place that's tingling with an almost painful stiffness, something different dribbles down the inside of his thigh, only to be caught by the loose-fitting material of his boxer shorts.

He clenches his legs together, aware that there's not much he can do while being busy with stimulating Clear like this, and speeds his indirect strokes up a little, chuckling when Clear's tip dabs his neck.

Clear is not laughing, though, too caught up with panting and sobbing, his temple pressed against the floor as he thrashes and squirms, hands balled into fists next to his body without anything to hold onto. Bent knees wavering beside Aoba's flanks, it's not hard to figure out that he must be close already. Maybe the heat is taking its toll on him too, after all?

"Are you gonna come?", Aoba murmurs softly, heightening the pressure between his breasts. Unable to answer properly, Clear nods frantically. The image of his hazy gaze and bright-red cheeks leaves Aoba with a racing heart. Shifting forward so his face won't get dirtied, his entire torso rocks rhythmically, driving his desperately mewling lover to his climax, and semen merges with the sweat on his collarbones, neck and chin.

...Nothing got on his cheeks or in his hair. That's _something_.

"Haah... haah..."

Clear's chest heaves, breath coming out of his mouth in deep huffs. Dust swirls in the sunlight that falls on his sated visage, and he weakly grins at Aoba.

"Thank you, Aoba-san... That felt really good."

"Don't thank me like that... that's embarrassing. Besides, I felt like doing it too, and it was my idea, so..." Aoba fumbles the wet back of his head, the bun coming entirely undone. Repressing the curses rising in his throat, he sits up fully, trying to get his hair back to the way it should be. As he does so, sticky liquid runs down his chest.

Clear shoots into an upright position, scrambling out from beneath Aoba as he fires off apology after apology; with his pants around his ankles, he turns the room upside down, returning on his knees with a roll of paper towels in his hands.

"I'm so sorry", he repeats for the umpteenth time, wiping his come off Aoba's skin, not failing to be tender even during that. His thumb swipes over his mouth as he cleans his chin, not intentionally, but Aoba trembles a little nonetheless. Observing Clear getting all worked up didn't help dimming his own want at all, obviously. Uncertain of how to make the proposal, he meets his boyfriend's warm eyes, exhaling heavily when the tissue swipes over his breasts, over a brown nub once more.

"Clear", he manages to get out hoarsely, "I'm..."

His pulse thrums with both relief and fresh passion when Clear presses a peck to the corner of his mouth, understanding his unfinished request. Folding the used wipes up (he doesn't even _crumple_ them) and putting them aside, his fingers brush over Aoba's shivering sides, then toy with the button of his jeans, popping it open without tantalizing him, conscious of his need.

It's already alleviative to kick off his pants and just half-lie there in the nude, propping himself up on his elbows with his butt against the lacquered wood, the moisture on his legs refreshing them in combination with direct air. On the other hand, the dull glow in his abdomen grows into a sizzling flame when Clear, instead of catching up with him to bring their faces together, stops climbing forward halfway, planting kisses on his tense stomach. His saliva leaves a cool pathway down to the edge of Aoba's azure pubes, although the fluid itself is warm when he mouths his boyfriend's flushed lips, fingers caressing his hips and inviting him to wrap his thighs around him, ankles crossed behind his back.

Aoba melts instantly when a curious tongue dives between his folds, pushing against him without unnecessary strength, just firmly enough so it doesn't tickle. His joints abruptly transforming into jelly, looking down on himself is impossible, so he rests his back on the floor and dizzily lets his gaze roam the ceiling instead, enjoying the way Clear's fringe brushes against his underbelly while slick sounds fill his ears. When his lover first did this, those noises were nothing but awkward, and Aoba wasn't able to let himself go at all. His body is in dire need of this right now, though, and so he merely moans when Clear's lips surround his clit and suck, the vibrations in his approving throat making Aoba's body shake as well.

It almost feels unrealistically amazing... Aoba toys with Clear's hair, urging him on. It's been a while since anything has made him experience pleasure like this; he might even come from this, and that thought is enough to have him thrust himself against Clear's face, mind too mushy to let him apologize for it. No matter how hard he attempts to form a coherent sentence, all that spills over his lips are Clear's name and a little bit of drool which he hurriedly dries off with the back of his palm.

At this point, the other usually looks up, licks his mouth with vulgar innocence and asks "does it feel nice?", but he seems to be sensing the tension that's slowly building up inside Aoba. Shuffling around (how, and he knows how, but how can he leave his clothes on, Aoba's lower back is drenched in smashed salty droplets), his head changes its angle, and -

"Ahh!" Aoba cries out when not one, but two fingers nudge his entrance and slide in without any resistance, grazing his inner walls with a delicious sharpness. Without preparation, this would be slightly painful, but Clear's tongue is still stroking him relentlessly, guided into a consistent cadence by the now less forceful sways of Aoba's hips.

Fingertips are prodding the sensitive spot inside him, sending even more sparks down his spine, and he whines at the sweetness flooding him from head to toe – that's it, there's no way he can hold on any longer...!

With a loud sob, Aoba gives in to the overwhelming bliss of orgasm, digging his heels into the space between Clear's shoulder blades, heat surging through his lower body and his chest and his arms and legs, with Clear continuing his ministrations until the agonizing euphoria subsides and gives way to bubbly satisfaction.

Head spinning, Aoba allows his eyes to fall closed for a second, his whole body clammy and hot. His legs simply slip down his back and onto the parquet when Clear moves up, connecting their mouths.

He isn't even bothered by the taste of his own saltiness or that Clear's clothes really don't help the temperature problem when they share a drawn-out hug or that that guy still hasn't put his pants back on.

...Okay, maybe a little bothered by the clothes thing.

"Ugh... I'm all sticky", he mutters, throat raspy. "Woah. I need something to drink."

Just moving by an inch turns out harder than it seemed at first, and he's only back on his knees when Clear is already handing him a filled glass of soda. It's lukewarm, but hell, it's something wet, and Aoba empties the cup instantly.

"Aoba-san, did that feel good?", Clear quizzes him. "You came, right? It's been a long time since you last came, hasn't it?"

"Don't ask so much stuff!", Aoba blurts out, definitely not equipped with the capacity to handle this many questions at once. "Sorry, I didn't wanna shout. It's just... I'm pretty bushed."

"Then... it _did _feel good, didn't it?"

"...Yeah. It did."

"I'm glad... Making Aoba-san feel good makes me really happy! And to receive that gesture from earlier; I can't bear it! Aoba-san! I love you lots!"

Despite his exhaustion, Aoba smiles at that display of shameless, albeit pure affection. "I love you too, Clear."

"Yay!" Before he can dodge it, he is pulled into another stifling embrace, and Clear rubs his cheek against his shoulder like a kitten.

"Geez. Aren't you tired at all?"

"No. Are you tired?"

"Yeah, kinda... And I need a shower."

Clear's eyes are sparkling so much that it's really obvious what he's going to say next.

"We could shower together, Aoba-san!"

Although it was predictable, Aoba couldn't come up with a way to refuse it in time...

...not that he honestly wants to, anyway.

After all, there are still some hours left until the stars go up.

He cups Clear's face in his palms.

"Sure."

It's like his joyful laugh is shimmering in today's heat-haze.


End file.
